She Can't Be Saved
by tokkas
Summary: Cato and Clove's last moments together in the 74th Hunger Games.


**Cato**

Clove and I are sitting on the lakeside, quietly discussing our plan on how to find and clear out the rest of the tributes.

And once that happens, we can go home. Since that new rule was applied, we can have a different beginning, where we can find happiness in each other outside of the Hunger Games, where they won't be in our way like a shadow constantly looming over our heads. We can begin fresh, we can begin differently, we can begin something wonderful.

We can be something.

I don't say this to her, though. I'm too afraid to tell her anything along the lines of that, of how I truly feel, afraid that she'll laugh. What if she doesn't understand? So I stay silent, forever hoping that she'll say it, that we can be together, that she wants to forget all the murder and killing when we finally when, when we finally begin anew.

It's all been an act, this brutality, this whole killing, murdering spree. It was all for the Capitol, for survival. We have to, don't we? To survive? Shouldn't we do all it takes?

I want to say something, but instead, Claudius Templesmith's voice booms through the speakers, resonating throughout the entire arena.

"We invite you to a feast. Some of you may already be declining my invitation, but this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately."

I pause, thinking about what we need- we're all set, really, with weapons, food, and water. What else could we need?

Clove answers my question before I even say it aloud- "Protection." Maybe to ensure that we'll win, we need something to keep us from being killed. Isn't that all that stands in our way? The other tributes? But for others, they might need food, water, shelter, something that we've had since the beginning.

"Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance.

I immediately volunteer to go to the feast. If Clove goes, she could die- and then who would I have left?

"No," she protests as I start to get up. "I should go. I'm faster and I'll be able to target the other tributes. At least one of us has to stay. Just in case, you know? Please, Cato. we have to split up for this."

_But I can't lose you,_ I think.

But I don't say it aloud- what if she thinks I'm stupid for saying such a thing, what if her feelings don't reciprocate?

"We can protect each other," I counter, trying to find my words and make an excuse for me to stay with her. I fumble with my words as they spill out over each other.

"I can do it, Cato. I'll go for the bag, while you wait on the edge for a tribute to come near, and you'll attack. Alright?" Her voice softens, and she seems to understand. Maybe, just maybe, she's saying, _I need you, too. We need each other._

Or maybe I'm just dreaming, wanting the unimaginable.

I nod- at least I'll be able to see if she's in trouble, but just barely. If she needs me, then I'll be there for her, just like I swore to myself that I would.

"Then let's go," she mutters, starting to pack up her knives as I grab my sword.

—-

**Clove**

When we are about a quarter mile away from the cornucopia, Cato and I exchange our goodbyes.

"See you later, Cato," I say, giving him a small smile. "Maybe by the time we're back, we'll be victors."

And before I know it, he's pulled me into a hug, his grip tight, yet still soft, his body pressing against mine. In his arms, I feel safe, a feeling that I've never actually been familiar with. He's been the first to change it.

The realization that I've been falling in love has dawned on me before, but I've always pushed it away. It's crazy, it's stupid. You can't find love in the Hunger Games, you just can't. It's impossible, just a crazy feeling that will only bring trouble and cause unnecessary pain.

But with the new rules, I can let myself do that now. Things can be different. Things can change. Maybe we could be something.

If only I wasn't too afraid to tell him. What if he doesn't want it? What if he just thinks that I'm silly for wanting and wishing for such a thing? What if he thinks that we could never be together?

I want to say something, but for once, I am speechless. And so I break away, ready to go to the Cornucopia, with him trailing slowly behind, but he grabs my wrist before I can depart. His grip is strong, as if he doesn't want me to leave. But I'm probably just thinking, hoping that those are actually his intentions.

He's about to say something, but he's at a loss for words. He releases me, and whispers something. Is it just me, or is he choking up? Probably not.

"Stay safe, Clove." Then he releases his grip and lets me go, those words forever trapped in his mouth, the words dying on the tip of his tongue.

I nod and head off, breaking into a light jog towards the Cornucopia. I can see the sun breaking through the mountains, a glimmer of light peeking through the holes in the forest. The feast will be starting soon, and at least another tribute is probably already waiting in the trees, preparing for the second bloodbath.

Before I know it, I'm at the edge of the woods, waiting for the perfect moment to get the pack. The arena falls to a standstill, and even the constantly chirping mockingjays have fallen silent, enveloping the arena in an eerie quiet that washes over.

Out of nowhere, a redheaded girl bursts through the trees, grabs the District 5 pack, and disappears again. She has no intent to kill, only to survive. She doesn't even try to grab another pack, trying as hard as she can not to be targeted.

The next to appear out of the trees is Katniss Everdeen, the District 12 tribute that we have been trying to find for ages. She grasps a bow in her hand, a quiver full of arrows on her back in case she has to fight of anyone.

Like me.

And so I run, too, grabbing a knife and hurtling it towards her. She, too, positions an arrow and shoots it, but I dodge away before it can hit my heart. It tears into my arm, though, and I yank it out, gritting my teeth and ignoring the pain. I take another knife out of my jacket and begin to run, my feet pounding on the ground as they kick up the rubble and ash from the disaster that befell this area earlier. Quickly, I lengthen my stride until I have caught up to her.

The minute she grabs the pack, I fling another knife at her and continue to run. It catches her right by her eyebrow, and she tries to shoot at me, but it's terribly far off and I tackle her to the ground. We wrestle for a few moments, but she's not strong enough and I pin her down to the ground with my knees.

I look into her grey eyes, and they glow with fear and desperation. When I was younger, I thought that I would love to see that look.

But no. I can't. She's a human, too. A human that is in my way of surviving. And just like I've been taught to do all my life, I appeal to the cameras and whisper to her, my crooning voice unfamiliar to even me.

"Where's your boyfriend, District Twelve? Still hanging on?"

"He's out now. Hunting Cato," she snarls back. "Peeta!" she screams.

, he can't be. And he could easily take the tribute down, right? He has to be safe, he has to be. He can't die.

I bite my lip as I grab her windpipe and cut off her voice. Still, I look around, making sure that Peeta isn't there, that he can't be hurting Cato. I can't lose him, after the opportunity that we've been given. But Peeta does not show, and Cato should be fine, right?

Right?

I push the thoughts and worries away and continue with my little show, however much I despise it.

"Liar," I hiss. "He's nearly dead. Cato knows where he cut him. You've probably got him strapped up in some tree while you try to keep his heart going. What's in the pretty little backpack? That medicine for Lover Boy? Too bad he'll never get it."

I open up my jacket, choosing another knife from the selection I have already.

"I promised Cato if he let me have you, I'd give the audience a good show," I say, the lies rolling out of my mouth. But in all truthfulness, I just want to survive. "Forget it, District Twelve. We're going to kill you. Just like we did your pathetic little ally… what was her name? The one who hopped around in the trees? Rue? Well, first Rue, then you, and then I think we'll just let nature take care of Lover Boy. How does that sound? Now, where to start?"

I look at her face for a while, and she's scared.

She's just a girl.

But I still have to go through with it.

"I think," I say, my voice starting to shake. Why am I doing this? _Why? _What point is there? "I think we'll start with your mouth. Yes, I don't think you'll have much use for your lips anymore. Want to blow Lover Boy one last kiss?"

In response, she spits in my face.

Disgusted, I grip the knife even tighter and speak quietly, but cruelly. "All right then. Let's get started."

Before I can make the first incision, someone yanks me away, and someone is holding me by the foot, my body dangling. The force throws me to the ground, and I feel the shattering impact of falling. I gasp for air as I try to run away from the District 11 tribute, the tall, broad boy who is fueled with anger and hatred.

"What'd you do to that little girl?" he shouts. "You kill her?"

I try to get up, but I can't. Fear rushes through my body, my heart pounding wildly, and I start to stammer. "No! No, I-"

He comes toward me, with a stone in his hand, and I realize just what is about to happen.

"Cato!" I shriek at the top of my lungs, panic rising in my voice. "_Cato!_"

And my life flashes before my very eyes right as the stone crashes into my temple. I fall to the ground, disoriented and feeling everything fading away. I only grasp onto a few memories- Cato and me on the train, talking amiably about our plans in the Games.

I realize something- now we can't win. It's all up to him alone. My breathing starts to slow as I see a silhouette in the distance, approaching me. I have no idea whether it's my imagination or not, but either way, I recognize it- it's Cato.

He falls to the ground and sits next to me, clutching my hand. He knows that I'm dying, that the victors of District 2 will never be. I stare into his light blue eyes for one last time.

"We'll be together again, I swear, Clove. I swear." His voice starts to fade away, but I still see him, but just barely.

Before me, I see a boy, not a man. He was not meant to fight, not meant to kill.

None of us were.

The last thing I can grasp before I fall is the broken boy holding my hand as I slip away.

—-

**Cato**

As she leaves, I follow, almost at the edge of the woods before I hear screaming coming from the direction of the Cornucopia.

"Cato!" she screams, crying my name. "Cato!"

"Clove!" I shout back immediately, my pulse pounding as the million different scenarios rush through my head. I _know_ I should have been there for her, I _know_ I should have gone with her.

If I had, could I have protected her?

I sprint through the woods, nothing stopping me from getting to her, to find her.

_Why did I let her go alone? _I think. It's all my fault. I've made a mistake that I'll regret for the rest of my life, I let her go alone and now she's in trouble and maybe even dead.

And just as I break into the clearing, the cannon booms.

"Clove!" I shout again, but there's no response. The clearing is empty, all the tributes have gone and scattered.

Except for a body, lying on the ground.

Except for Clove.

She's sprawled out on the grass, her brown eyes devoid of life and the sparkle that they used to have, whenever she laughed or made a joke.

"Clove," I whisper, shaking her shoulder.

She can't be dead.

It was someone else that the canon was for.

"Clove!" I say, louder this time. "Clove, wake up! Wake up, Clove!" My voice starts to shake, and it cracks with every other word I say. I fight the tears burning at the back of my eyes.

_She can't be dead. She can't be dead._

Yet, there is an unmistakable dent in the side of her head.

"You can't die on me, Clove!" I scream, my voice rising with hysteria. "You can't leave me! I _love_ you! We were supposed to _win_, Clove! We could have done it, we could have won! We could have been together." I cry out everything I wish I could have said to her, even if she will never actually know, and I let the tears start to stream out as I clutch her frail face in my hands. There's a quiet, peaceful expression on her face, unlike the determined one she used to wear. She looks so beautiful, even in death.

Sobs rack my body as I hold her in my arms, a love lost, a life gone. I know it in my heart that she can't be saved, but the impact of that realization has hurt me far more than I had ever expected it would.

I never knew I would fall in love.

I never knew it would be so hard.

And I never thought that I would lose her.

"Please come back to me," I whisper as I hold her, unwilling to let go even though the hovercrafts are bound to come back soon. I don't care if the world is seeing me right now; I don't care if this is losing me sponsors or putting me out in the open. I just want it to be Clove and me right now, even though she's gone.

I sit there for I don't know how long, with her limp body in my arms.

Lifeless.

After a while, I realize it's useless. No matter what I do, she won't ever come back.

We can never be, nor will we ever be.

I lay her down on the grass again, and close her eyelids, as if she's sleeping.

"I'll see you soon," I choke out, saying the same goodbye that she had said not an hour beforehand. "We'll be together, someday, I know it."

I stand up and finally release her hand, and I walk away.

But now, there's only a hollow emptiness inside.

Never have I felt so alone.


End file.
